Found
by fanfic n00b
Summary: There's nothing like a medieval witch hunt to bring people together. An anachronistic romp through the origin of Hogwarts, and the many romantic disappointments of the four founders.
1. Sal

The charred, smoldering remains of four bodies gazed heavenward. Last night, they had burned at the stake. An ill fate, to be sure, but certainly not the worst one imaginable. Oh yes, thought the dark-haired man as he approached the bodies, one could imagine many worse things.

He shouted up at them.

"Am I expected to carry around this sword for you at all times? DO something about it, Godric."

"But you always appear when I have most need of you," laughed the charred remains of his friend.

"I'm not your squire," he grumbled, tossing the sword at the smoking heap.

Godric Gryffindor caught the sword in one blistered, blackened hand and began a series of wand movements with the other. The charred-ness seemed to flake away, like dark snow falling in reverse. Not just from him, but from the other bodies that had been bound together with him on the pyre: two very young girls. A blonde woman. It was excellent spellwork, Salazar thought. No wonder the witch hunters had left. To all outward appearances, the deed was done. The air even smelled like burnt hair and blood.

Someone else was laughing, too. It was the blonde woman. She had a merry, mothering sort of laugh. Salazar decided instantly that he disliked her. To be fair, he disliked almost everyone at first meeting. He had even hated Godric, who was as good as his brother now.

"Where's Ro?" asked Godric, untying the two young girls as the blonde woman cooed at them.

"She stayed with the horses. Said she wasn't feeling well. I don't blame her, Godric. You kept us up all night worrying about you," said Salazar, sighing ruefully.

"I got into a spot of trouble," said Godric in his characteristically manic way. "And met this wonderful woman. Helga, this is Sal, the friend I told you about. Isn't he brilliant, finding us like this? I don't know how he does it. Instincts! Or spells he won't tell me about!"

In truth, the snakes had told Salazar where to find the red-bearded man who carried a wand.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance!" said the woman, beaming and untwisting the ropes that had bound the girls' hands together.

Salazar nodded his head curtly. The sooner they could get out of here, and back to Rowena and the horses, and traveling north again-

"We can't leave them, Godric," said the woman. "They're only eleven."

Godric bent down to the girls' eye level and asked amicably, "Who do you belong to, then?"

"We live on the other side of the mountain," said one of the girls. Salazar supposed they must be twins, though one was fair and the other was dark. They were both small-boned and had the same pointed chin.

"We'll see you safely home," Godric said.

Salazar groaned and fiddled agitatedly with the locket around his neck.

"Helga," said Godric, standing up again. "I think one of them is a witch. I felt something as we were burning. One of them was helping us."

"She's not a witch!" cried the fair-haired twin. "We're not! We don't know anything about worshipping the devil, or- or-" The girl was at the edge of tears. Well, you couldn't blame her, thought Salazar. She had just been burned at the stake by an angry mob of witch hunters.

"We know you don't, dear," said Helga helpfully. "But there are real witches and wizards, and they don't have to worship anybody. Real magic is something else entirely." She flicked her wand, and a stream of twinkling yellow butterflies flew into the air.

The fair-haired girl still looked hesitant, but her dark sister reached out dreamily toward a butterfly. When her fingers met its wings, the butterfly transfigured into a mockingbird.

"There you are," said Godric. "I'm getting good at spotting them."

Salazar kicked the earth in front of him in frustration. Another detour. He would much rather be hunting down treasures and knowledge, which was supposed to be the reason for their quest. He had heard stories about an unbeatable wand that was rumored to be somewhere in the northern country, and he was very keen to investigate. Godric's boisterous heroism had side-tracked them more times than he could count. And during that terrifying incident with Ragnook the goblin, Salazar thought they mightn't make it home alive.

Really, Salazar would have preferred that it remain the two of them, Godric and Salazar, as it had been in the beginning. Later on, he had accepted Ro because she was clever. And beautiful. Truthfully, Salazar had hoped something might happen between them on one of these evenings when Godric was off on some damned fool's errand. But she did not seem inclined toward him. No matter. She was a very useful traveling companion. She had an exhaustive knowledge of magical flora, for one thing.

But this- Helga, did he say?- looked like a milkmaid. Salazar was full of foreboding and annoyance. He did not like the idea of traveling as four. Too easy to divide into factions. Who would be next- muggles?

He kicked the earth again. There was a patch of small, woolly plants in front of him, which he recognized only because Ro had pointed them out the previous day. _Croton capitatus_. Hogwort.


	2. Ro

The horses twitched their flanks and flicked their tails.

Several hours had passed since Salazar left the camp. Rowena had an intuition that something was not right, though she could not put her finger on it. She regretted again not bringing more reading material on this journey. She had long since finished the small library of scrolls she had brought with her, and although she did love re-reading, she knew it would not distract her enough from the nagging sense of... doubt? Foreboding? She rubbed her temples.

It was a warm spring morning. The dew evaporated from open buds of woundwort and meadowsweet.

Rowena played mental games with herself while she waited. Squaring numbers into tens of digits. Anagramming her friends' names. Godric Gryffindor: _Dig Nordic Frog Fry_. Salazar Slytherin: _Alas Snarly Zither_.

She had joined Godric and Salazar's quest because she, too, sought knowledge. Not so much treasure- well maybe a little treasure- but mostly knowledge. Oh, Merlin, how she craved knowledge. And also, at the moment, breakfast.

Digging through her leather bag, she found a ripe green pippin. She bit into it, hoping the sour flesh would give her stomach something to do besides churn and flutter.

After what felt like another full hour (and many more anagrams- Rowena Ravenclaw: _Aware Venal Crown_) she saw movement in the trees to the west.

She shot a few blue sparks into the air with her wand. Godric shot red ones back in answer. This was the sign that all was well. But then why did it look like they were carrying... someone?

Rowena finished the sour apple and _Vanished _the core. By this time, the small group had drawn close enough to hear.

"I am called Alienor, and my sister Eltheow," said the fair-haired girl.

"Well met, ladies," chattered Godric, dripping with charm. "Welcome to our camp. Ro, this is Helga and Alienor and Eltheow. Helga, the lovely Ro."

Rowena met Salazar's eyes. His were burning with annoyance. And that ever-present soupcon of desire.

This Helga- she was very buxom, very carnal-looking. Ro wondered if that was why Godric was acting so excitable. Then again, he was almost always excitable.

"Eltheow is a witch!" exclaimed Godric.

"Of prodigious skill," said Helga.

"And no training whatsoever," muttered Salazar.

Suddenly, a low roar rent the air. Rowena's knees locked.

A huge shadow poured across the trees, and suddenly Rowena knew exactly why she and the horses had been so jumpy-

"It's a Welsh green!" shouted Helga. "Get back!"

Rowena had already ruled out apparition; there were two children who would be left behind. And the horses besides. _Three horses._ Not enough for six people. That left-

"Where's your sword, Godric?" bellowed Sal.

"I thought you had it!" said Godric.

"I gave it to you not three hours ago! I told you to stop leaving it around!"

Rowena watched in horror as Eltheow walked dreamily toward the dragon with her hand outstretched. Her sister ran after her, pulling at her robes, but Eltheow seemed transfixed. Rowena shot a shield charm in front of them.

"There are times when a sword would be really useful, like when a DRAGON IS BEARING DOWN ON US, GODRIC!"

Rowena wondered why they didn't just take out their wands and do something useful.

"_I HAVE THE SWORD_!" screamed Helga. "And we are NOT going to use it."

"What?!" the men spluttered at her.

"Look at this clearing. Did you think the trees just _grew_ this way? You camped in the middle of her nesting site!" said Helga, pointing at the long green head that was waving back and forth above their heads.

Godric looked oddly sheepish for a moment. Then he turned and began firing sleeping spells at the mother dragon. Helga ran toward the girls and swept up one in each arm. Salazar went after the horses, who had bolted off toward the mountains.

As she uttered sleeping spell after sleeping spell, Rowena felt her respect for Helga ratchet up several notches. Finally, someone with deductive reasoning skills!

* * *

That night, they made camp several miles away, near a vast lake surrounded by beech trees. Godric and Salazar shared a generous amount of mead and laughed away their earlier argument.

The little girls were sleeping in the tent.

Rowena was watching Helga's mouth move but not really hearing her. They had been talking about the girls- the silent one who was clearly a witch of some natural talent and the sister who spoke for her, defended her, and was in all likelihood non-magical herself. Helga thought it was sweet. Rowena thought it was tragic. _You've never lost a sister,_ thought Rowena.

Still, she liked Helga very much. She liked the way she was so unashamedly feminine and nurturing at no detriment to her intelligence. She didn't dumb herself down around the men or children.

Godric's eyes found hers across the flickering fire. He grinned at her. Then he pulled the brim of his hat playfully over one eye.

Helga Hufflepuff: _Helpful Eh Fa Guff_. Rowena grimaced; it was not her best work. She would have to keep thinking about it.


	3. Helga

"It comes down to the parentage. Either the one is a squib, or the other is muggle-born," said Sal.

"That's completely ridiculous. One's a witch, one's not. So what," countered Helga.

"But if their parents are-" he pressed.

"What does it matter to you?" asked Helga pointedly. They had been going round and round for the last hour about this. She didn't think Sal had any point at all, other than to be horrible for no reason. "What does it matter who their parents are? That little girl is a witch, and by the looks of it, a powerful one. The only way her parents come into it is- can they train her? Or is she on her own?"

_And if she is on her own_, thought Helga, _I am going to train her myself._

Sal harumphed (or maybe _harumphed_ was too kind a word, but Helga usually chose too kind a word) and waved his wand at the tent, which sprang all of apiece out of the tiny pouch into which it had been stuffed this morning.

"Who taught you, anyway?" asked Helga, determined to keep things friendly.

"My father," he said, predictably. Helga noticed that a distant, sad expression twitched across his face when he mentioned his father. Bad memories there, she guessed.

"Well, I'm going to go and check on our mysterious charges," she said, glad of an excuse to get away from her dour new companion.

She hiked up the steep hill where the trees grew closer together. As she looked around, it occurred to her that this was just the sort of place where Acromantulas liked to nest. She made a mental note to scan for webs, just in case.

Minutes later, she found the chestnut mare and the black stallion standing alone in a clearing. Helga felt a flicker of panic.

"Oy, Godric!" she called. "Ro! Alienor!"

"We're here," came Ro's liquid soprano.

"Where?" called Helga.

"Up here," came Godric's voice. "Look above you."

She did. Four people were floating in the air, without broomsticks to hold them up.

"Pretty good, eh," snickered Godric. "Ro has quite a knack for these fiddly sort of spells. What'd you call this, Ro- something something bubble charm?"

Ro clucked and gave a Latin name for the spell, which Helga did not recognize.

"Alienor, are you alright?" asked Helga.

"Yes," came the girl's voice. Helga noted that she sounded less fearful today than she had done two days ago. The thought made her soften. Which was saying something, because she was rarely _not_ soft.

The four people slowly descended, landing lightly on the forest floor.

"Did you spot any," muttered Ro to Godric.

"Didn't," he said, conspiratorially.

"Nor I. Well, I should get back to the camp," said Ro. "Good day, Helga."

Ro leapt astride the black stallion in one smooth motion, her long blue cape swirling behind her, and cantered off toward the camp. Eltheow watched her go, with yet another dreamlike expression on her face. Helga wondered if she really was mute.

"Have either of you got a wand?" asked Helga.

Alienor shook her head.

Helga held her own wand out to Eltheow. "You can try with mine. Go on," she said.

Eltheow looked up at her questioningly.

"Try saying '_Wingardium leviosa_,'" she said, plucking a twig from the forest floor and holding it out in front of her.

* * *

Helga helped the two girls mount the chestnut mare.

"Feeling alright?" Helga asked them.

They nodded solemnly. Helga spoke soothingly to the mare, who was pawing the earth in front of her restlessly. She patted the long, velvety nose and scratched behind the tall ears. Then she handed the reins to Alienor.

"You do know how to command a horse?" she asked the girl.

Alienor nodded again. _Well, that'll make things much easier going forward_, Helga thought. She whispered a spell into the mare's ear and the animal cantered off toward the camp, carrying the two girls, who, she noticed, rode rather well. They must have been raised on a farm. Or by nobility.

"She's brilliant, isn't she!" exclaimed Godric.

"I agree," said Helga.

"And you! You were great! You're a natural teacher."

"You're not so bad yourself," she replied.

Godric suddenly grabbed her shoulders firmly and kissed her. His lips were warm, sweaty, and optimistic.

"Godric. I'm married," she said, raising a hand to stop him.

"I know," he said, pulling away and smiling brightly at her. "I just like you."

"And what am I supposed to do with that?" she half-laughed.

"Nothing. Or, know that I like you. You're great. You're smart and brave and you don't let Sal and Ro wind you up. I love them very much, mind, but they're not exactly happy shiny people."

"So, what, you're... Platonically interested in me?"

"Oh, God, no. I'd marry you in a heartbeat, are you kidding? But, as you said, you're already married. And I'm perfectly content to be your friend. Probably shouldn't have kissed you just now, but, there it is. Shall we go and see if Sal and Ro have throttled one another yet?"

He grinned and held out his hand.

Helga shook her head with exasperation and wonder at this ebullient young man. She had never met anyone quite like him.


	4. Godric

Sal had his moments, Godric thought that night as he and his five companions shared a meal around the fire. Sal had fashioned a few crude wands for Eltheow and was letting her experiment with them. She was shooting sparks of various colors, and once or twice she pulled off the levitation charm Helga had taught her. Godric thought he saw Sal actually _smiling _at her.

* * *

"Where are they?" asked Helga again, and this time Godric heard a genuine note of panic in it.

The storm had begun sometime in the small hours of the morning. Hail pelted down around them. Ro and Sal were dealing with the horses, who were screaming and rearing at each fresh burst of lightning.

"They can't be far," Godric said, locking eyes with her as if he could steady her with his gaze. "I think we should check that castle we passed yesterday."

"Do you really think they could get that far on their own- in this downpour?"

"Yes, I do. Or something could have come from there and taken them back. I knew we should have stopped to investigate," he said.

"I'm coming with you," she said.

"Alright, but wands out."

They clambered up the rocky hillside. It was a damn sight harder going back up than coming down; their progress was far slower than he would have liked. A few times he reached back to pull her up, and he wondered fleetingly if she would interpret this as an advance, but in the moment, she seemed glad of his assistance. She was, he thought, a very fine witch indeed. He was more than a little disappointed that she was already married. But wasn't that always how it was on quests- unattainable maidens and all that. Really, wouldn't he have been more disappointed _not_ to have fallen in love during this adventure?

After a cold slog up the hill and through the dense trees, they could see the castle. Well, "castle" was perhaps too grand a word. It was more of a ruin. But there were a few high walls still standing, grown over in places with fantastically large plants, and two towers.

"Alienor! Eltheow!" he called.

Lightning struck a tree close by and it splintered, falling with a thunderous clash across their path.

"Sod it, we should just apparate," he said.

"But they could be in the trees, or-"

"Would _you_ stay out here in this, if you could help it?" he asked.

"I suppose not. Alright," she said, taking his hand and turning on the spot.

When the sensation of constricting bands fell away, they were feet from the ruins.

"Do you feel that?" she asked.

It took him a moment to understand what she meant, because he was already so cold and wet, but yes, she was right: there was a horrible, unnatural chill in the air, too.

"Wands out?" he called.

"Wands out," she answered.

"Hurry," he said.

They ran into the antechamber of the ruined castle. Helga shot warming, drying spells at both of their robes, which he would have appreciated more enthusiastically had they not been searching for two small girls in a collapsed castle full of dementors.

"Hominem revelio," he said, and a moment later, he knew two people were in the nearest tower. He ran up the winding stairs, his boots slipping a little on the damp stone, and every few steps he looked behind them, over Helga's head, to make sure no creatures pursued them.

What greeted them at the top of the tower was unlike anything either of them had ever seen.

At least a hundred dementors, circling like birds of prey, darted and weaved toward the two girls. Eltheow was huddled on the stone, her hands over her head, and her sister was standing a foot in front of her, her white-blonde hair blown back by the intense storm winds, arms thrown wide as if protecting her. Alienor was holding one of the wands Sal had made for Eltheow.

Godric ran toward them, the charm halfway out of his mouth, when suddenly he was thrown back by a huge, dazzling silver something. The creature arched its long back, threw out its impossibly long neck, and began beating huge wings that almost seemed to glitter.

It was a dragon. No, a Patronus. It reared forward and the dementors scattered. It took flight, pursuing them through the storm, flapping those massive, incandescent wings. Godric ran forward to help the little witch on the ground- had the force of casting it brought her to her knees? He cast the same warming, drying spells at both children, and was just wondering how Eltheow might be able to answer the question "are you alright" without speaking, when the dragon Patronus returned, flapped its wings a final time, bowed to Alienor, and dissolved. And then it dawned on him.

"It was you," he said to Alienor.

She gave him a hard, piercing look that belied her eleven years.

He had not heard Helga coming up behind him.

"Godric," she said. "We have to stay and train them. There's no way I'm leaving now. Not when it's both of them. Not when it's like this."

"Alright," he said, unable to tear his eyes away from Alienor. "But I've got dibs on that one. Bloody hell."


End file.
